Despite their attraction, dragon shifter Caleb Rycroft always saw Lucy Sheffield as off-limits. Now, three years after mysteriously disappearing, Caleb has returned and wants nothing more than to show Lucy the ecstasy that can be shared between dragon and rider. But Lucy is set to claim another dragon at her brother’s demand... In order to stop the arranged claiming, he and Lucy must embark on a frantic mission to find her brother and extinguish a growing threat to their entire isle. If they fail, the island of Feralon will perish...along with any hopes Caleb had to explore his forbidden desire for Lucy...
Demand of the Dragon
Kristin Miller
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Nocture Cravings BPA
Copyright
Chapter One
This was it. The moment Lucy Sheffield had dreamed of. The moment she’d been bred for.
In a few toe-tingling minutes she’d walk down the cold, stony isle inside Draco Cavern and be claimed by a dragon. It should’ve been the happiest moment of her life, waiting with a pounding heart to step through the velour curtain, stand before her Draco community and set her sapphire eyes upon her lifemate.
If only she knew which Draco her brother had chosen for her.
“It’ll be all right,” Mia said, brushing her hands over Lucy’s shoulders in a soothing caress. “Your brother knew what was best for you.”
“Did he?” Lucy’s voice cracked. She wasn’t so sure. Arranging for her to be married to a Draco she’d never met didn’t exactly scream brotherly affection. “Even in death he has to control every aspect of my life.”
Mia clutched Lucy’s shoulders in a steely grip. “Tristan was trying to protect you. He wanted to make sure you’d be mated to someone who could give you the future he wouldn’t be able to secure himself.”
“He knew I didn’t want to be claimed like this, he had to know.” Lucy’s heart hammered in her chest. “I want to choose the dragon I’ll ride the rest of my days. He had no right to arrange this, no right.”
A trickle of sweat rolled down Lucy’s temple as a bell chimed beyond the curtain that separated the dressing chamber from the great hall. She wiped the bead away with the lace hanging from her wrist, let her arm fall to her side, and sighed.
Everything was perfect. Her dress was the one she’d dreamed of as a child—dainty lace collar with a plunging neckline, a tight-fitted bottom that hugged her hips, and sleeves that ballooned at the wrist. Baby’s breath was tucked behind her ear. Every Sindraco she respected was waiting for her to appear so they could ooh and aah at the sight of her. It was all in place. Exactly how it should’ve been. Except for Lucy’s breath, which seemed to have escaped her lungs.
Maybe she didn’t have to do this. Maybe she could―
No, she couldn’t fight her fate. Couldn’t back out of the claiming ceremony and disgrace her brother’s last wishes.
“Tristan had every right to arrange your mating,” Mia said, boring her tender, honey-brown eyes into Lucy’s. “He was the only family you had left in Feralon. It wasn’t only his wish to ensure your future here, but his duty. It wasn’t like you had a boyfriend when he wrote his last will.”
Little did Mia know, Lucy had her sights on claiming the only dragon she’d ever loved. The dragon who’d captured her heart when they were adolescents, when they explored the isle with eager, adventurous eyes. No matter how much Lucy wanted to tell him the desire burning in her heart, she’d never revealed her feelings. They’d been friends, all three of them. The three amigos: Tristan, Lucy and...
Caleb Rycroft.
Only Caleb, and Lucy’s only chance at happiness, was long gone now. She hadn’t seen Caleb in three torturous years. He’d disappeared the same day as her brother, cementing that night as the worst of her life.
Losing one man Lucy loved would’ve been bad enough, but losing two? It was overwhelming, sucking her into a pit of depression she’d barely escaped from. The cold sting of regret rooted in Lucy’s bones, even now, chilling the blood in her veins. She should’ve told Caleb how she felt about him.
If she had one more chance...she’d do so many things differently.
The bell in the great hall chimed once more.
“You’re on,” Mia said, releasing Lucy’s shoulders to smooth the sleeves of her lace gown. “And you’ll be fine. Just keep your eyes focused on the front.”
Lucy’s pulse spiked as shivers blanketed her arms and legs. As a Sindraco—a woman born of Draco blood without the ability to shift into a dragon—she was bred to be a dragon’s rider, to be mated for the rest of her days. Like Mia, Lucy’s head had been filled with unwavering ideals of honor and clan pride since their childhood teachings. Dragons needed riders to survive. Sindracos were beyond honored to ride the skies on their backs, making them faster and stronger than ever before.
After the grief of losing her first love had lessened, Lucy had planned on making the most of her time in Feralon. Although she’d loved Caleb wholeheartedly, there was bound to be another Draco who could make her feel the way he had. She would’ve found another Draco to love. Eventually. She would’ve been proud to claim a dragon that she respected.
But being mated to a dragon she’d never met? The thought made the collar of Lucy’s dress cinch like a noose and the silky lace material scratch like a burlap sack.
Arranged claiming ceremonies happened all the time to “more mature” Sindracos with zero prospects. But Lucy was only twenty-three and far from the desperation that an arranged marriage insinuated. The whole situation was humiliating.
The curtain pulled back, tearing the air from Lucy’s lungs along with it.
The great hall was packed. Draco Cavern had been carved out of the inside of a mountain, with rounded stone-slab ceilings and arching hallways that branched off the main room to Draco quarters, though it was not as though she could see any of it. Sindraco women stood on either side of a rose petal—littered aisle with brilliant white smiles that beamed with expectation. Shirtless Draco men formed a barricade around the outside of the room. As if their enormous size and muscular stature could convince her to stay should she try to escape.
Mia gently nudged Lucy from behind, prompting her first step.
By the time Lucy was halfway down the aisle, a hush came over the cavern, settling heavily on Lucy’s skin like evening fog.
There he was—her future mate. Well, there was his back, anyway.
How could Tristan do this? How could he demand she be mated to a stranger?
Her future mate couldn’t have been taller than five-feet-six—one of the shortest Draco males she’d ever seen—with a flop of messy blond hair on an abnormally square head, and droopy shoulders that led to a thin waist.
Great, Lucy scoffed. Just perfect. Tristan had chosen the weakest Draco on the enchanted Isle of Feralon to be her mate.
As Lucy pulled back her shoulders and faced the whispering crowd, she shook her head. Her brother truly didn’t know what she wanted at all.
Caleb was nothing like the Draco waiting for her at the altar. He’d been tall and strong, with warrior shoulders and a dark, stubbly head of hair. More than his brute strength, Caleb had been tough because of his unwavering loyalty. He’d been resilient, able to withstand the greatest heat of battle if it meant standing up for a principle he believed in.
Caleb’s gone.
The words echoed in Lucy’s head and settled on her tongue, bitter and stale. And when they escaped past her lips, Lucy gasped, pressing her tongue against her teeth to stop them from
passing again.
She closed the distance to the altar. Another step. Yet another.
Lucy had always dreamed of heroes who were tall, dark and handsome. The Draco waiting with his back to Lucy was nothing like what she’d dreamed. He was anxious, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He was no more certain of Lucy than she was of him.
Wonderful.
She’d been certain once in her life. Three years ago. When she believed Caleb was her mate, the one she’d spend the rest of her days with...until he went missing and was pronounced dead months later.
Don’t think about him. Lucy bit her lip.
Another few heart-pounding steps and Lucy stood at her future mate’s back. He was breathing hard, his bare torso glistening with sweat, his shoulders rising and falling in trembling heaves.
As Lucy stopped short of the stone altar, her gaze lingered on the Draco’s backside. White linen pants slung low on his hips exposed how slim his waist really was. His back was golden, twitching with slender flanks of muscle, making his ribs protrude with each heavy intake of breath.
How would she ride him when he shifted into a dragon? It wasn’t like her size 10 frame was gigantic, but she was larger than her mate by at least twenty pounds. She’d squash him! Squeeze her thighs around his middle and cut off his circulation!
What a disaster.
This Draco was not who she wanted to be standing beside. Not in the slightest. Her name didn’t belong carved into his chest with the sacred Draco Spear.
How would her name have looked on Caleb’s chest? Lucy wondered. His powerfully-carved pectoral muscles rivaled those she’d seen on Greek statues. Streaks of pride soared through her, clamping down as swallowed tears burned in her throat.
Lucy’s gaze shifted right, then left. More smiling faces. Heaps of expectation driven by deep-rooted family values. She couldn’t do this, but God, she had to, didn’t she? It was too late to turn back now. Too late to mend a tattered past.
“Wait!” A booming voice filled the cavern, reverberating through the air like thunder.
Lucy spun around, along with every other Draco in the room.
Was that...Caleb?
He strode through the entryway behind them, his broad shoulders pulled back, his hands clenched into fists at his side. His onyx-black hair shone with subtle flecks of autumn, and his eyes were far richer than she remembered.
“I said wait.” He marched down the aisle, a menacing figure donned in black warrior attire. “This isn’t happening today.”
“Oh, God.” Lucy’s vision blurred. Was the altar swaying? “Caleb? What...are you...”
Lucy let the rest of the words fall. It was all she could muster. Pressure filled her ears and her knees weakened to jelly. She had to calm down and force air into her lungs. She took a jagged breath, but not a single stream of relief filled her.
Caleb reached the altar and the stabbing pain in Lucy’s temples increased when his spicy, masculine scent hit her senses.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Lucy’s future mate asked, thrusting his hands on his hips in an aggressive gesture that didn’t suit him.
As Caleb stepped to Lucy’s side, her future mate turned, allowing Lucy to finally see his face. His green eyes were slightly cross, his nose flat, his mouth forming a grim line that pulled down at the corners. Looks weren’t the only thing that mattered, but there had to be some hint of attraction between two people for a relationship to work, didn’t there?
“I’m the guy who’s been looking for Lucy’s brother the last three years.” Caleb held up a piece of paper that was crumbled in his fist. “And I have orders from Queen Elixa to postpone the ceremony.”
It was all too much. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t...move.
Shaking her head, Lucy tried to step back, away from this dreamy version of Caleb and the mate she didn’t want. And stumbled on the train of her dress.
A pair of strong hands snaked around her waist and clasped her tightly. With a hitched breath, Lucy looked up. The hands clutching her waist—rough, yet oddly tender—were attached to a set of bulging arms, leading to a shadowed, square jaw and Caleb’s hypnotizing eyes. He was touching her. Really touching her. Maybe she wasn’t dreaming after all...
“Lucy?” Caleb’s voice drifted over her like smoke, lingering in her ears. The Draco specks arching over his cheeks shimmered like flakes of gold dust. “Are you all right? Someone bring her a chair!”
Disorientation swirled around her in a head-pounding mixture of Sindraco laughter and heart-stopping disbelief.
“Caleb... I thought you were...you were dead.” She’d lost her mind.
Was she still in his arms? God, she didn’t know. She was warm, tingly all over. Heat flooded her cheeks as she wobbled to her own feet. The man before her was a stranger—a Draco hardened by time and trouble—but those melting onyx eyes bore into Lucy’s soul the way they had a thousand times before.
“No, Lucy, I’m not dead. I’m right here.” Caleb’s voice was almost a purr—a voice that Lucy’s heart remembered all too well. “But I see you’re just as graceful as when I left you.”
Lucy’s heart rate doubled as she eased out of his arms. “You came back,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand. “But how—why now? I mean...what are you doing here?”
With an order to stop the ceremony, she meant to say. Did this mean he loved her? That he wanted to be with her?
“We need to talk.” He thrust his hands into his pockets. “And I’m not here to take Geezer’s place under the ceremonial guillotine, if that’s what you had in mind.”
Lucy’s vision snuffed out and she hit the floor.
Chapter Two
Caleb crashed the claiming ceremony just in time. Two minutes later and Lucy Sheffield would’ve been mated to that...tool of a dragon.
It wasn’t like he wanted Lucy for himself. She simply deserved better than the pathetic-excuse-for-a-Draco that had been standing beside her at the altar. What had Tristan been thinking, arranging for her to be married to a Draco who couldn’t protect her? Geezer had been the weakest dragon in their clan for the last fifty years. The Draco seemed content to squat at the bottom of the totem pole. Sure, his family had wealth and stability, with a castle built on northern lands, but what did that matter? Geezer would never know Lucy the way Caleb did.
“You...” Lucy sat up and rubbed her hands over her eyes.
He smiled. “Me.”
“Caleb? Where am I? What happened?”
Kneeling in front of the chaise lounge in the post-claiming chamber, Caleb became hyperaware of the Dracos surrounding them, watching their every move. Despite their lingering gazes, Caleb couldn’t stop staring at Lucy, drinking in the details he’d missed so much. Honey-blond strands of hair swept over her shoulders like a silky river, flowing full and lush to her waist. Almond-shaped eyes, soft cheekbones and a petite, button nose made her seem angelic and pure. But as Caleb’s gaze settled on Lucy’s lips—petal-soft and slightly pouty, glistening with a hint of moisture—he shifted uncomfortably.
Something had changed.
Was it the sharpness of Lucy’s eyes that used to be so serene? The way her body seemed to explode with curves? It was those things and more, Caleb realized. What struck him most was the way sexuality seemed to seep from her pores.
They’d always had a physical connection—one Caleb had never acted on, despite how it’d tied him in knots. He’d never wanted to jeopardize what they shared. Never wanted to give a relationship a shot, only to have it fall apart and shatter their friendship. Now, though, Lucy seemed more beautiful than ever. As if time had illuminated her assets and hidden her flaws.
“You hit your head on the altar.” Caleb cleared his throat. “You’ve got a bit of a bump, but Queen Elixa thinks you’ll be fine.”
“Queen Elixa?” Lucy winced as her fingers found the bump on the top of her head. “Oh, God. What happened at the ceremony?”
“I showed
up like a knight in shining armor to save you from making the biggest mistake of your life, and you hit the floor like a wounded damsel in distress.” Despite the heaviness of the situation, Caleb smirked, tilting his head to hers. Her naturally feminine scent—flowers mixed with something sweet and powdery—danced through his nose. “It was quite the theatrical debut.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Lucy sat up farther, squinting as if she couldn’t focus properly. “After I went out did we...did he and I—did we finish the ceremony?”
Did Lucy really think Queen Elixa would continue the claiming ceremony and carve her name into Geezer’s chest while she was unconscious and sprawled on the floor?
“The ceremony’s been postponed until we get a few things straightened out,” Queen Elixa interrupted before Caleb could speak. She stepped from the doorway into the center of the room, her guards following closely behind her. The queen exuded regal grace, her chin that lifted toward the ceiling. The Draco specks arching across her cheekbones shimmered bright blue, showcasing how striking her scales would be when she shifted into full dragon form. “But Caleb has asked to be the one to explain it all to you.”
“Explain all of what?” Lucy shook her head. “Tell me.”
Queen Elixa smiled sweetly, crossing her arms in front of her. “Tristan wished for you to be claimed by Geezer, so I followed his demands and put the plan into motion. But when Caleb mysteriously returned last night, he shed light on some things. He has reason to think your brother could still be alive, and if there’s a chance of that, we cannot force a claiming ceremony to take place.”
“What?” Lucy’s hopeful gaze remained on the queen. “Tristan’s alive?”
“I think it’s best if we leave the two of you alone so that Caleb can answer your questions. You have much to discuss.” Queen Elixa moved to the door, taking her entourage with her. “Keep in mind, Lucy that if Caleb is wrong and Tristan is deceased, as we’ve believed him to be for the last three years, you will marry Geezer. It is what your brother demanded of you. It doesn’t have to be today, tonight or tomorrow, but it must be soon.” She stopped, and turned back. “Welcome home, Caleb. We’re glad to have you back.”
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